A Thousand Demons that were Unknown
by Angels-and-Heroes
Summary: It's nearly impossible to hide something, especially when you just get sicker... and sicker... and sicker. That's what Levi had to face, and he could only get so far.


Do you ever wake up and feel like that day will be your demise? The moment when you know, that very second, that at whatever time, your heart's going to collapse from inside you, and you're going to roll several times across the floor… The darkness will envelope your vision, clouding you, protecting you from safety until you just cannot hold back, and you let go of those shaky breaths, those heavy thumps behind your ribcage just suddenly… stop. Cease. End and you know it.

Because… believe it or not.

This was Levi's moment.

It wasn't uncommon to inhale too much dust on a regular basis with the Corporal, since he was always rushing on horseback through the dusty aisles of the valley, dusty funneling behind him, clouding behind the horse's flank, and sometimes, he'd look back to check if any of his comrades were two horse lengths behind him, and particles would find their way into his nose, mouth, ears, and eyes. He'd find it irritating, rubbing and scratching at the infected orifices, but he'd think nothing of it, and he'd continue through his life.

That was then.

When he'd spit, however, that was different. It was supposed to be translucent and bubbly, foaming like you had rabies whenever he spat into the sink bowl or the grass or even against someone's face if they pissed him off. Sometimes, or more so now… there was something brown creeping inside the bubbles, like when the sun reflects against the rain and makes a rainbow. This… this was no rainbow, it wasn't colored and flowing with life, it was like he hacked up the plague if he had to pick a term. The Corporal was now swallowing more dust than he was inhaling oxygen. Could he really clean himself internally, besides covering any facial orifices because of his better judgment? Yes.

So he did.

He'd wrap his face with a white handkerchief, double knotting the fucker so that it wouldn't fall of his face whenever he was galloping from one destination to the other, or cleaning since everyone else sucked at doing it. It grew dreary at times, and his hands would slip from the reins, only to convulse and reattach, startling him. _Stay focused, Levi. The hell are you doing?_

One by one.

Day by day, each of the easier tasks would grow a little harder. Dismounting would cause a whirlwind of vertigo, and he'd grasp the saddle, hand against his forehead to catch the air that he was missing, that he was expelling from just sliding off the horse's back so smoothly. He'd tilt forward, and then he'd tilt to each side until he was smelling horse hair, and he'd come to, as if in a subconscious coma.

The fuck is going on..?

* * *

Sometimes he'd sit there and sip his tea, and he'd inhale it, like the most contented type of sigh, when things are definitely going your way. Or perhaps it would be the type of sigh that was meant to relax, un-tense those convulsing shoulders from an anxiety attack or a fit that came over you without your consent, and you just "need to relax, and take it easy" because it's going to be okay. He'd grab it from the top corners and elevate it, nearly deep-throating the liquid, but it'd just be a few petite sips, nearly coveting the flavor, relishing it in its prime. Each clash of the cup to plate would be an intermission before he'd gulp the hot beverage again and again and again. The minty flavor, the taste of lemons, or maybe even the smell of raspberries.

Now.

Now it just tasted sick.

Sick, and wrong.

Like strangulation, and you're gasping for breath that isn't, doesn't, never existed, and the tears are covering your eyes, everything has gone blurry and you know you're going to pass, but the sound of your death never meant a thing.

* * *

"Levi?" That voice came out of nowhere. Was he spacing out again? Grey eyes flicked from gazing at the flooring to beautiful teal-green which would alter to something lighter when he was distressed, or perhaps darken when he was intimidated, infuriated, and possibly—"Captain, are you feeling okay?" Levi jolted and caught Eren even closer than before.

"When did you get here?" He huffed.

"I've… been here," Eren's eyebrows furrowed with puzzlement, "you were spacing off again and I just wanted to make sure you were—"

"I'm fine," that was abrupt.

"Sir—"

"Be quiet," and the older man would stand then, all wobbly and off-balance, dizzy-like, near faint. "Why don't you make yourself useful and find someone else to bother, will you? Stupid." And he'd weakly shove against the taller boy's chest, and he'd just side-step, easy and nonchalantly, as if the force of the palm was enough to knock him over and break a table. The captain would stumble a bit, like his boot curved out of sync and he'd follow suit. "I'm fine."

I'm not sick.

But Eren caught it…

* * *

Sleeping had grown to be a pain. He'd be thrust into a sleeping paralysis, and he'd be crawling for ages in quicksand, sinking lower and lower. Something was crushing his chest, something was burning his throat, and he was screaming inaudibly, quietly, on mute. His muscles grew to mud, or immobilized bones that stuck to the walls of his legs and arms and back. The screams were ceaseless, but they came from within, a cage that nobody knew existed.

Levi was growing just a tad concerned.

* * *

_"I'm not hungry, at least not terribly," Levi said, pushing himself away from the table, still on the chair, before standing, shrugging and whisking down the corridor, and only Eren and Erwin were left straying their eyes right after him._

_"Cap…" Eren reached a hand out, as if he could just grasp that cloak and pull the soldier back to him, to ask him if he were okay, and if there was something bothering him. Mikasa lowered his hand and set it on the table, her eyes sort and comforting, and even they would calm Eren when they exchanged looks._

_"He's all right, Eren," her smile was faint, but visible, "he's probably quite stressed because of the upcoming mission. Our last formation was a bust, so reshaping it must have him questioning things too much to even touch a meal."_

_"Have you noticed, though," Armin leaned over the table, and the two leaned in response, "he's grown a little paler than he normally is."_

_"I thought he was just horrible at tanning," Mikasa whispered. "Could—"_

_A fist hit the table between the three, blocking their conversation and Erwin and glaring at all of them, eyebrows shielding the true anger illuminating through his irises._

_"Do not say another word," Erwin demanded, catching their concerned faces, "the Captain is just fine, so shut up and quit gossiping."_

_Eren's hand clenched into a fist at the table, and he were about to protest and express his concern for the captain if Mikasa hadn't pulled him down, and shook her head. She knew what was best to say at this time, and what was best to keep within you, lest you wanted an altercation._

_Nobody really knew—_

_They didn't…_

* * *

"Aah…

Haa…

Gah…

Again..?" Levi had just bolted down the corridor for the third time that day, sprinting faster than he figured he could, burst open the doors to his bedroom, unlatched the hooks on his window, feeling the gust of air that blasted through his black hair, and he allowed himself to hack. It was gut-wrenching, his ribs snapping and tearing straight through the cartilage, inflaming his entire cardiovascular system, burning it straight to the core, rotating on and around to his stomach, down and through it, punching it, squeezing it. He hacked once, twice, and then a fucking third time, each time growing more vehement, a breath that gave less breath for the next ones. He wiped at his mouth and peered down at the ledge of the window and noticed those specks that had collected.

That wasn't saliva.

That wasn't dust-flavored spit.

That…

That was blood.

Dark, and fresh, recently generated blood, too red for it to be considered blood. There were a few gathered in a pile, where the hacks had him bracing the frames, and others that were scattered, like he was catching his breath and the blood had dripped from his teeth.

This wasn't okay.

His hands were in a tremor as he grabbed for the handkerchief, wrapping it around his sweaty face, double knotting that fucker, so it wouldn't fall down onto his neck. Conceal, don't feel. Don't let them see you submissive.

_You_ are the Corporal.

_You_ are in control.

In control…

* * *

"Oi, Corporal…" Someone's voice echoed through the haze again. "Oi… are you spacing again?"

"Fuck off."

"Damn," the voice chuckled before Levi realized that he wasn't in fact paying any attention. He was propped up against the wall on a balcony, looking over the city, on past to the wall that hung way over them, like a giant gate, a protector, and shield. "You feeling okay?" The corporal dropped one of his hands from the ledge of the wall, staring straight at the taller guy.

"Yes, of course I'm fine."

"You're really pale—"

"Kirschtein!" A hand rose up to slap that smirk off his face, but there was that wave again. It was like his heart pulsated out of its attachments and Levi was collapsing against the wall behind him, unable to clearly make out the screams of concern Jean was shouting as his wrist was grabbed to keep his fall from being too gruesome. He was then lowered to a sitting position as inaudible cries for help were no longer reaching his ears.

_Someone help!_

_It's the Corporal!_

_Please—_

_Anybody!_

_Levi..?_

_Wait a second, what the hell is going on?_

_Commander, don't – be easy on him._

_He needs rest, that's all it is. That's all it is._

* * *

"Captain, you have a visitor," one of the guards called from the half conscious man's bedside. He winced and sit up, feeling his stomach clench at the very thought of resituating.

"Send him in," Levi watched the door, waiting for—

Eren burst in, Armin at his elbow practically dragging along, as if he had failed to keep him glued behind the door.

"Are you insane!?" Eren screamed, standing at the foot of the bed, fists clenched.

"Clinically, probably, but I'm sure that's no news to you," Levi shrugged, feeling that motion pop several bones that seemed aching and fragile.

"Don't brush this off like it's nothing Levi!" His fists were quivering now, and Levi was quickly paying attention, that once alert shimmer in his eyes now back in business. How dare you—"Why would you pretend you were okay!?"

"Tch."

"**Answer me!**"

"I don't have anything to say to you, novice."

"I swear to God, Captain—Please, just let me—"

"This conversation has reached its end."

"But—"Those tears were forming behind those eyes, almost shattering a stained-glass window that was his voice. His shoulders were shaking now, and his vision was growing blurry. "Please… Captain." The sheets at the foot of the bed were clenched within the Titan boy's hands, steadying him. "Talk, say something, anything… You have to." Levi watched emotionlessly as the eyes that shed sorrow had quickly altered to Earth-quaking anger.

"Why aren't you telling us that you're dying!?"

Silence.

Levi's lips worked, and he could feel the bile rising faster and faster and faster.

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get. Out. **Now**."

Eren's feet took inches off the distance between him and Levi, sprinting over to grab at the wrists that trembled to gesture to the door which Armin had been standing near the entire time. They were inches from having their noses touch, their foreheads were pressed together, regular on clammy, unhealthy, diseased skin, emerald on grey, dead on barely holding on themselves.

"Corporal…"

He hacked, splatters covering the boy's face, but that didn't cause a flinch. He was used to that. So very used to that. Bile of blood made its way to Levi's mouth and he vomited into his palm, the crimson trailing down and into his clothing.

* * *

_"Please just eat something…"_

_"I told you, I've literally lost all appetite for food."_

_"You said that yesterday."_

_"Good, then quit pestering me, I'm busy."_

_"Cap—"_

_"Shut up!"_

* * *

Levi had gone completely deaf as Eren's screams bellowed through the corridors, through the walls, above the ceilings of the building as Jean held him back as he squirmed to stay in that very room. The boy was kicking and screaming, biting every piece of available skin he could see behind those hazel eyes. A trail of sweat shone upon the corporal's face as he watched the door close.

Che.

"That's disgusting," he told himself, eyes watering from the acidic bile that stung his throat. "I need to clean this before it dries and becomes a tedious job more so than a quick chore."

* * *

Do you ever wake up and feel like that day will be your demise? The moment when you know, that very second, that at whatever time, your heart's going to collapse from inside you, and you're going to roll several times across the floor… The darkness will envelope your vision, clouding you, protecting you from safety until you just cannot hold back, and you let go of those shaky breaths, those heavy thumps behind your ribcage just suddenly… stop. Cease. End and you know it.

Because… believe it or not.

This was Levi's moment.

And it was happening _now_.

* * *

He had clenched the sheets of his bed, groaning from another feverish dream, heat pouring through to his head and legs. Damn this fever. He sat up and looked out the open window, aiding in burning off his fever, but to no avail. His hungry had completely flown out the door, and there was no longer any tan about the corporal. Those grey eyes had gone white, blind. Black had grown grey, his hair losing its light and its originality as the struggle grew more and more evident that it was a loss. Water couldn't even be held down, and when it could, his parched stomach would clench and recoil, transform his thirst to sickness, vomiting it up in the form of blood.

What day was it?

Seven?

Eight?

Twenty.

He had purely lost count. There was no flavor to anything that he put his mouth on. There was no sunlight that would whisk the aid in ceasing the shivering that petrified him day in and day out. He'd dress himself, having to retighten and retighten that gear until it fit him. His build used be to nearly that of Eren's, not it wasn't even that of Levi, or what he had been. The hair that he ran his fingers through had been pulled and prickled, disheveled like bedhead, not that this bothered him.

But that was just it—

That was just all that comprised of the now corporal…

And that clock was clicking and ticking and tocking so fast through the moments that—

* * *

Jean's footsteps were going way too fucking fast down that corridor, and he had to grasp onto the wall so that he wouldn't miss it as he raced through at warp speed, slamming through the double doors into the dining hall, the Survey Corp watching as the tall man had drew himself his last energized breath. Jean could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears, for the blood had slipped through to his brain. This was an immediate emergency.

"It's… It's—"

The whole dining hall had grown silent, chuckles and idle chitchat had gone from a dull whisper to an opening for a pin to drop and have everyone hear it. Eren was sipping his soup, but his ears were open.

"It's the Corporal."

That did it.

"No…"

"No it can't be."

"I thought he was getting better!"

The spoon dropped into the half-full bowl, and Eren covered his mouth, holding his stomach. This was just like before. He'd think the images and he'd make himself ill. What was Levi going to look like this time? What was the thing that Jean had seen? What about the Corporal? What was—

"Eren…" Krista grasped his shoulder, bringing him back, easing his stomach. Her eyes were wide and worried. "Go… Go see him. Go see the captain. Please…"

The young man nodded and leapt from his seat, racing down the aisle, toward the doors Jean had just come out of, pushing him out of the way.

"Oi, Eren, where are you going!?"

"Stop him!" Petra shouted, a shatter in her voice, "we can't let him see the captain! Someone _please_!" But Eren was already kicking himself down the next corridor by the time Armin and Mikasa had gone down the first set.

Damn he was just too fast.

_Don'tbedead._

_Don'tbedead._

_I swear to God, Captain—don't be—please don't be—I don't want you to be—_

The door was pushed open, a heavy breath exhaling, and then a scream. Not the bloody murder one, not that terrified, unexpected cry, but the one that has everyone dropping to their knees, begging through their screams to _please, please, please, don't let it be true –_

"_**Levi**_!" Eren didn't even care that he was shouting that name, even if he wasn't allowed to. The body was on its back, like it always had been, one arm was off the edge of the bed, the other hanging against the chest. That chest. It should be breathing. It had to be breathing.

He couldn't feel himself moving, all he knew was that he had reached the bed in a matter of seconds, and his hands were clenched against that white shirt, hoisting the body up. It didn't retract, it didn't recoil in annoyance, it complied… it obeyed. The head was dangling, but Eren held it at the crease of his arm, cradling it, watching it turn away, as if embarrassed by its own appearance.

"C-Captain Levi…" Eren pressed his ear to the other's chest, listening. Waiting. Hoping and—goddammit—praying.

There was—

Nothing.

"You fucking idiot!" The boy screamed, shaking that body over and over and over again, screaming obscene words to it, in hopes that it'd spring up and cuff him on the ear, or pinch his cheek, reprimand him in some form or another, yet… there was nothing. "You can't die! You just simply can't! You are the captain of this team, and you can't abandon us! You can't—"Eren had to swallow the urge to vomit. "—You can't abandon me…"The fingers grasping the white clothing were shaking, growing tired of holding that soulless body any longer.

"You're supposed to lead us to victory; you're supposed to show us how it's done." His hair draped over his eyes, that downcast eyes that couldn't see now, this time he couldn't see anything. He couldn't see those bed sheets, or that body he was holding so tightly, endeavoring to keep it warm, to warm it, heal it… save it. "You're our captain, lead us, but please… don't abandon us. You fool, you're a fool. You ran! You ran away! That's what you did! You ran and you didn't stop until you couldn't run anymore." He was hyperventilating now, gritting his teeth. "We don't know what happens in the future, we can't predict the future, but we knew… we knew you couldn't hold back, you just wouldn't stop Levi!"

The body dropped to the bed sheets, head bouncing, and Eren's body had coiled against it, hands bracing that face covered in pallor, that face overly exhausted, the dark circles evident on its features. He was wailing now, shaking, breaking, snapping. He needed to punch a wall, but there was no strength, no energy left within in.

* * *

… He didn't even hear Mikasa and Armin run in.

He didn't even hear Armin's cry of desperation.

He couldn't feel Mikasa's hand on his arm, yanking him uselessly.

He couldn't feel himself breathing anymore—

There was no captain anymore.

_There was only endless rest._

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Wow. _That's quite a lot of breaks.  
I apologise if that actually bugs you, and if it does, I can see if spacing it would work better.  
But yeah, sorry if this doesn't suit anyone's fancy - it is my first Shingeki fanfiction.  
And no, there are no couples placed into this.  
I'm sorry - whoops.

_**Also-**__Kudos to whoever can name the 3 songs placed into the title_


End file.
